Absolute Zero: The Azure Moon

by James D. Fawkes

When Byakuya so easily defeats Ichigo, Kisuke decides that they're going to need help to invade Soul Society and rescue Rukia. So, he calls on an old friend. Hiatus pending completion of The Azure Sky.

3. Prelude of Ruin

Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess.
We seek it thus, and take to the sky.
Ripples form on the water's surface.
The wandering soul knows no rest.
— LOVELESS, Act I

Crisis Core: The Azure Moon
By: James D. Fawkes

Chapter Three: Prelude of Ruin
— o.0.O.O.0.o —

Walking. She had been doing that for a while now, and yet seemed to have gotten nowhere. No matter how far her feet took her, she never seemed to reach whatever destination her instincts were leading her to. In fact, she seemed doomed to walk for eternity, searching for something she wasn't even sure of and nearly blind in all the snow.

She wasn't sure how she had gotten where she was. All she knew was that she opened her eyes to the sight of an endless tundra with barren trees that were encased in ice and a burning desire to find something, something that escaped her knowledge and yet was more important than anything else she currently knew.

She also wasn't cold, oddly enough, despite the horrid weather and temperature of her surroundings. Despite the snow on the ground that easily rose halfway up her shins, despite the howling winds and the frigid blizzard, despite the thin cloth of her shihakushô, she was surprisingly comfortable in this place.

"Momo…" a familiar voice whispered on the wind. She looked up, her arms wrapped around her chest as a sort of quasi-reflex to her surroundings, but she saw nothing. Angling her head down as the bangs of her dark hair were whipped around her face, she continued on, passing the voice off as her imagination.

"Momo…" the voice said again, stronger this time. She looked up again, but still didn't see anything. Growing slightly frustrated, she swallowed the anger bubbling up in her throat and started to move once more. Whatever she was looking for, she had to find it, and she had to find it soon. She still had responsibilities to take care of, things to accomplish. She had to get back to the Soul Society.

"Momo!" the voice called, irritation and urgency coloring the tone. Her head jerked up a third time, and her eyes widened as she met the aquatic teal of one of her best friends. He stood there, Hitsugaya Tôshirô, staring at her with agitated irritation and his arms crossed inside his black robes.

"It's about time you listened to me," he said. "You've been walking around, blundering through the snow, for nearly an hour now. I don't even know how many times I called out to you before you finally heard me."

"Shiro-chan?" Momo whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"It's…complicated," Tôshirô sighed. He settled her with a hard, forlorn stare. "We've been brought here…for me to say goodbye."

Momo's eyes shot open in horror, "What? But…Shiro-chan! What are you talking about, goodbye?"

"I have to return to what I was before, what I was always meant to be," Hitsugaya explained. He looked down, as if he were in awe the next words he was going to say. "And soon, you will, too. We…We're so insignificant…in the grand scheme of things. And yet…the parts we'll play will also be some of the most important."

"I…don't understand," Momo said, taking a slight step back. "What's going on? What's happening?"

Tôshirô looked more serious than Hinamori had ever seen him.

"There is a Captain in the Soul Society," he said solemnly, "who is influencing the decisions of the Central Forty-six. I know what he's after, and I know that he needs to kill Kuchiki Rukia to accomplish it, but I won't tell you who it is. If he finds out you know the truth, then I'm afraid he might kill you."

Momo looked at him fearfully, "But…why?"

"We're here so I can say goodbye, Momo," Tôshirô shook his head, changing the subject.

Tears crept into her eyes, "But…why?"

"It's how things must be," he said. "We each have our own destiny, Momo. We each have something that we must do with our lives, and mine has decided to claim it's due. And soon, yours will, too."

Before she knew what was happening, he had engulfed her in a hug, despite being shorter than her. She felt a blush creep up over her face, and was so distracted that she nearly missed her dearest friend's next words.

"We will see each other again, some day," he whispered into her ear. "You may not know it's me, and I may not know it's you, but we will. I promise."

As she closed her eyes and hugged him back, the world around them vanished into a black void, and soon, he followed. Everything faded to black.

In a bed in the Tenth Division barracks, Hinamori Momo stirred in her sleep, face contorted, "Shiro-chan…"

Namikaze Naruto moved his index and middle finger away from her forehead, frowning as he stood straight and asked the air, "Are you sure that was a good idea?"

He didn't seem to receive a response, but sighed anyway, "You're right. She deserved the chance to say goodbye. But I can't help worrying this might affect things later on. This whole situation is very precarious, you know."

He blinked for a moment, then his frown deepened, "No, no. I already had my chance to say goodbye to Hikari-chan. Besides, she's Kuchiki Rukia now. She hasn't been Namikaze Hikari for a long time."

A look of confusion crossed his face, "Imprints? Oh, like echoes. Not true memories, but not just feelings either. Snippets, then? Little pieces of who they once were, hidden deep within the soul but not completely irretrievable."

He shook his head, "But they're still different people, even if they can remember small, useless tidbits of who they used to be. Arisawa Tatsuki is not and never will be Namikaze Tenten again, just like Kuchiki Rukia can never be Namikaze Hikari. It won't make any difference."

His expression softened, "You're right, I do miss them, but…I came to terms with it a long time ago. Dredging up those memories…it won't do anyone any good."

He turned his gaze back to Momo, "I have to live in the present, the here and now." He reached out and lovingly stroked the soft skin of her cheek. "And I have Hinata-chan to remind me of that."

There was a pause, then he laughed softly, as though struck by a funny idea, "Yes, I certainly have found it, haven't I? This gift you gave me. The Goddess's true treasure."

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

Jûshiro sat up with a groan, palming his forehead as he hunched over and dimly aware of the bright morning sun. He opened bleary eyes, blinking the sleep out of them as the blanket that had covered him slipped down to his waist. He wore only a long, pristine white kimono, not the normal shihakushô, evidence that he had spent a long time confined to his bed and the tatami mat on the floor.

It was his disease, of course, that had had him stuck in his quarters for so long, not laziness (unlike Shunsui). It seemed to attack him at the most inopportune of times, so much so that his two third seats tended to do more of the paperwork for his division than he did (something that he felt wasn't very fair to them). For whatever reason, though, Kiyone and Sentarou seemed to enjoy it.

His disease hadn't always been so debilitating, however, nor had it always had such a profound effect on his ability to function. He had always been rather weak-willed (the Research and Development Department's way of saying he was a pacifist), but, for the majority of his tenure, he had been a strong, healthy captain. Even still, he was one of the strongest of the lot. He just wasn't as durable as he used to be, so he couldn't do as much work.

Goodness knows, Kiyone and Sentarou tried. They did their best to get the work done and, at the same time, even, take care of him. They signed off on the paperwork, they did their reports, they filed the reports from other shinigami in the Thirteenth Division, but, no matter how much they tried, they just couldn't make up for the lack of a vice-captain.

His heart clenched. Kaien. Shiba Kaien. One of the men he had respected, and adored, the most. He had been a close subordinate, sunny, cheerful, brash, but a good man nonetheless. He had tended to act first and ask questions later, the kind that rushed head on into battle for the sake of what he cared for and believed in, but he had enough power that it didn't matter much.

Shiba Kaien personified all that the Thirteenth Division was. He was strong, loyal, friendly, and he was a very hard worker. He didn't let such things as nobility and manners get in the way of his beliefs, and he didn't let someone suffer when he could do something about it. He was everything Jûshiro wanted in a vice-captain.

Then, he died. And, oh, if only Jûshiro hadn't been sick, maybe he could have done something to help. Maybe he could have saved Kaien, saved Rukia the pain of having to kill the man she idolized and cared so deeply for. Maybe he could have prevented the whole tragedy from happening to begin with, just like—

Just like Hikari.

No matter what, no matter how deeply affected he and his division had been by Kaien's death, the one that had scarred them even more was Hikari's. He had been saddened, of course, when he found out she had died about sixty years after he met her, but then she came to the Seireitei and he just knew he had to have her in his division. It was the least he owed her, as Naruto's granddaughter.

She had risen, quickly, to the rank of Lieutenant. Then, after nearly three and a half centuries of serving with him, she'd requested to be stationed in the World of the Living. She wanted to protect the village she had grown up in, the place that Naruto had raised her in and taught her to love above all else.

He couldn't have denied her.

And then, it happened. He wasn't sure how it happened, or even the exact time it had occurred, but she had fallen. He knew it was a risk to send such a powerful shinigami, even if she was still just a Lieutenant, out in the field, but there was no way he could have denied her. And she died. He had unknowingly sent her to her death.

Naruto had come, opening a direct Senkaimon into the Thirteenth Division, walked solemnly past all who tried to halt him, and taken her things from her quarters. All without speaking a word. He didn't have to. His mere presence had been enough to tell Jûshiro the entire tale, even if the specifics had never been shared.

Her death had merely made the onset of the disease worse, made its effects seem all the more severe and all the more grave. If he was a psychologist, perhaps he would say that he couldn't handle the guilt, so he had unconsciously made the disease worse in order to relieve some of the burden. After all, if it weren't for the disease, he could have helped them.

Then, Kaien died, speared by the end of Rukia's heavenly zanpakuto, the zanpakuto that was so identical to Hikari's that he almost couldn't believe it to be true. The sickness took hold of him, grasping him much stronger than he ever thought it could have, and sent him to his bed day after day. How long, he had wondered time and again, before it claimed his life?

And now, Rukia, Kuchiki Rukia, the girl he cherished almost as much as he had Hikari, was up for death row. Something was wrong, he kept thinking, something didn't fit. He knew what her crimes were and he knew the punishments for them. Never, in all the books and tomes he had read, did it declare that any of her crimes were punishable by execution.

There was something off about the whole picture. He had to get to the bottom of it, had to find out what was missing, what piece there was that needed to be put in place. Even if it cost him his life, he had to pursue this difficult path, pursue the justice that he believed in, deep in his heart of hearts.

"Na, Jûshiro!" Ukitake looked up sharply, surprised to see Shunsui leaning against the doorpost with a giant grin on his face and his arms folded. "You'll never guess who's come back!"

"What do you mean?" Ukitake asked, staring at his friend strangely. "Someone was missing?"

"Not missing, per say," Shunsui said cryptically, stilling grinning like the cat who at the canary, "just not here for a while. But he's come ba-ack!"

"How is that supposed to help me?" Ukitake demanded, a little bit irritated with his friend. One of times when he was feeling in really good shape and Shunsui had to waste it by playing a game? Not now, not when he had such a strong conviction settling in.

Shunsui opened his mouth, but it was not his voice that spoke, "It's not. Shunsui's trying to be annoying and force me to speak up." There was a soft groan. "And it worked."

Eyes wide, Jûshiro spun around to see Namikaze Naruto in all his blonde glory, arms crossed and leaning against a desk near the corner of the room. A swell of hope filled his chest; Naruto was here, the most fair and just person Ukitake knew, and one of the few who had undoubtedly made the connection between Kuchiki Rukia and Namikaze Hikari.

Jûshiro had known that, even with the Ryoka and Shunsui helping his cause (even if one party was doing so unknowingly), it was likely that he would succeed and die in the attempt or fail outright. Yamamoto was, after all, the strongest Shinigami in the Soul Society. Even Jûshiro and Shunsui combined could not do more than make the old man break a sweat.

But Naruto…Naruto was a legend, regarded as the only one who stood a chance against Yamamoto at his best. Not only was he revered as the master of all things ice and water, he was also known for his most famous of feats, the one that even the mortals had born witness to: the sinking of an entire naval fleet, easily four or five times more than enough to dominate Japan, with but a single sweep of his sword.

"N-Naruto-sensei!" Jûshiro whispered, shocked. "You're—!"

"Come with me for a minute, Jûshiro," Naruto interrupted, grabbing the other man's arm to ensure that he had no choice. "I have a promise that I need to fulfill."

"Wha-what promise?" Ukitake asked, following Naruto out the door.

Naruto didn't seem to hear him, murmuring under his breath as he was. Then, without warning, he spun around and forced his glowing palm into Ukitake's chest. The white-haired man's eyes widened, then his mouth followed as the air was driven from his diseased lungs. An unspeakable pain accompanied the blow, and Jûshiro wanted to scream out, but he had nothing in his chest to scream with.

It was agonizing. It felt like a gale, a typhoon of sharp and unforgiving winds, had just ripped through his ribs and out the other side. It was an acute pain, precise and almost methodical, and it was as if his flesh were being torn apart molecule by molecule, then forcefully mashed together again in some strange amalgam of shapes. And yet, it only lasted the barest of instants.

Pitching forward, Jûshiro made a harsh gagging sound and promptly spit up a large glob of blood mixed in with a strange, tar-like black liquid. Within the haze of misery and pain, a comforting hand rested on his hunched back. Moments later, as he took deep, steady breaths, a glass of water was pushed into his hand, "Don't swallow. Gargle it, then spit it out."

Grasping it weakly, Jûshiro did as he was commanded and gargled the water quickly, then spit it out onto the tile. The result was a pinkish liquid meshing with the previous maroon as he gasped for air, the glass torn from his hands. There was a flash of bright color, then the sickly mixture on the floor burst into flames and was destroyed, leaving behind only a black scorch mark.

A few minutes later, after his breathing calmed down and he was able to think and see straight again, Jûshiro stood up and looked at Naruto, who was staring at him expectantly, "What was that?"

"A technique Hinata-chan taught me a while back," Naruto said calmly, helping him back into the room and a seating position on the floor. "It was Kidô-fied, of course, just because, but its function was still the same. It overwrites the diseased portion of your body by taking a sort of 'blueprint' from a healthy specimen. In this case, I used my own lungs as the example. The stuff you spat up was the disease and the blood it had infected. Technically, as long as you have a healthy specimen, you can heal anything, even old age."

"Old age?" Jûshiro asked, noting the surprised look on Shunsui's face. "But…then why wasn't Hinata-san…?"

He stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing that he was treading on grounds that he shouldn't. Naruto frowned, but his voice was flat and deadpan when he answered, "Because she has some parts that I don't."

Both of the other men blinked, then one blushed while the other one broke out into a fit of laughter. Coughing into his hand to avoid more awkwardness, he tried to steer the conversation down a different path, "Yes, well…why have you come here, Naruto-sensei?"

At Naruto's serious look, even Shunsui stopped laughing, "I'm sure the both of you noticed it. Kuchiki Rukia was sentenced to death for her supposed crimes, a punishment that is not very befitting of her actions. Therefore, there must be a further plot behind all of this, and, as far as I can tell, there's one man who's masterminding all of this."

He paused for dramatic effect, "Aizen Sousuke."

"Impossible!" Jûshiro sputtered. "The Aizen I know is…!"

"…a fake," Naruto interrupted sharply. "I know Aizen is the main villain in this twisted little story, but I'm not sure that he doesn't have accomplices of some sort. My first suspect would be Ichimaru Gin."

"Naruto-sensei—what you're speaking of—it's treason!" Jûshiro tried to reason with him.

"Perhaps, Jûshiro," Naruto responded neutrally, "but Aizen doesn't play by anyone's rules other than his own. He managed to fake his own death, and did it to throw people off of his trail, to implicate others and sew discord amongst the ranks of the Thirteen Court Guard Divisions. I have little doubt that, somewhere, he's left something or someone to pin the blame for his death on me."

He closed his eyes for a moment, "But Yama-jii knows otherwise."

"Genryuusai-sensei is in on this, too?" Jûshiro asked, shock written all over his face. "Just how many—?"

"No, he's not," Naruto interrupted again. "He's waiting for the traitor to reveal his hand before he takes my side in this thing. I haven't told him it's Aizen, I don't have enough proof, but I intend to force his hand. However, the day of the execution, there's going to be a battle. A large one. The Gotei Juusantai will be split down the middle. I want the two of you to take my side when it happens."

"You want us to kill our comrades?" Shunsui asked, eyes wide.

Naruto shook his head, "No. I want you to fight and distract the stragglers. Stall them until Aizen's hand is forced. I'm going to be going at it with Yama-jii. I won't have the time or the ability to influence the other fights from that point on."

He stuck them with a stare, "You two…you believe that what is happening isn't justice, right?" Both nodded. "Then all I'm asking is that you do what you would have done anyway. I'm just asking you to pick different opponents this time. All right?"

They nodded again, and Naruto let out a sigh, standing, "All right, then. I'll trust you guys to handle it."

He moved to leave, but Jûshiro stopped him, "There's a question I've been wanting to ask since the day we met, Naruto-sensei. May I ask it?"

Naruto shrugged, "Fire away."

"I did some research on the nine humans Genryuusai-sensei spoke of back then," Jûshiro said. "I didn't find much, but I did find a reference to creatures known as the Bijuu and that they were 'sealed' into these nine humans. What does that mean, exactly? What are the Bijuu?"

There was a pause.

"The Central Forty-six's current definition (and by current, I mean most recent, even though it's centuries old) of the Bijuu is that of 'Living Hollows', Vasto Lorde in power but Adjuchas in form and Gillian in size," Naruto explained. "That they're creatures of pure reiryoku that have no natural physical bodies. Thus, using massive amounts of energy, they create a body themselves. This is their theory."

Naruto shrugged, "Anyway, whether this is correct or not, the Bijuu are made of reishi and possess reiryoku. For a developed human body, especially one that isn't naturally spiritually adept, housing one of these creatures is suicide, or tantamount to it. As a result, only a child, a new or unborn living infant in particular, can hold a Tailed Beast safely and for extended periods of time. Unfortunately, separating them will result in the host's death."

"Why such a young child?" Ukitake asked, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Indeed, why seal it away in the first place?"

"They're natural disasters," Naruto said flatly, "forces of nature. When one comes knocking at your door, there's not a single thing you can do to stop it except seal it."

"But what is it?" Ukitake wanted to know. "There's no such thing as a living Hollow! That, in and of itself, is a contradiction!"

There was another pause.

"The Bijuu are creatures of instinct," Naruto explained. "But, you're right, they're not living Hollows. They are massive amalgams of ambient reishi given a distinct personality but decidedly Hollow tendencies, along with an animalistic form. Their power in relation to one another is displayed by the number of tails, rather than their size and intelligence."

"I don't understand," Jûshiro admitted, frustration clear in his tone.

"The truth is that their creation wasn't entirely accidental," Naruto said. "Long ago, the Rikudo Sennin fought the Ten-tailed beast and sealed it into his own body. Taking the beast's body and encasing it in rock, he, according to legend, cast into the sky, where it became the moon. Then, knowing of the creature's power, he set it up so that it would be split into nine different entities when he died, the Bijuu."

He took a breath, "Since he had removed the beast's soul from its body, these Bijuu were creatures composed entirely of reishi and reiryoku, like all souls. They had so much power, however, that they could form a body for themselves of pure energy and whatever ambient elements they could gather. As a result, the only way to truly kill one of the Bijuu is to seal it away and siphon off its energy until nothing is left but the sentience."

"I see," Ukitake rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "then the Kyuubi is…?"

"Weak and powerless," Naruto confirmed, "merely a voice in my head. When I die, so will he, and we will be reincarnated separately."

He stood, then, and started to turn. Instead, he looked at the two of them, seeming to try to figure out what exactly he wanted to say. In the end, he settled for something simple, "I'm counting on the two of you."

Without another word, he spun on his heel and vanished with a small whoosh, like the sound of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

Ganjuu woke with a start, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and cutting off the light snore that had joined in a quiet symphony with the rushing water. He reached up with the back of one hand, unfolding his arms as he rubbed his eyelids to rid them of the bleary film that blocked his sight after a good night's rest.

Looking down, his stomach gave a funny jolt as he realized that Hanatarou had fallen asleep on his leg, arms folded under his head. Jerking backwards, he stood, letting the petite shinigami fall to the floor unimpeded, "Hanatarou, you disgusting little toad, what the Hell are you doing, sleeping on me? I'm no pillow!"

From his place leaning against the wall, Ichigo had to hold in a chuckle. While his own reaction to being slept on might have wound up a bit similar to Ganjuu's, it was funny to be on the outside looking in, if only for the look on his companion's face. It was amusing, certainly, but he wouldn't let it distract him from his purpose in Soul Society.

They were here to rescue Rukia, plain and simple, and he wouldn't let anything or anyone get in his way. He hadn't forgotten that, not even during the times he had succumbed to sleep. Even in his dreams, he saw her face, soft and gentle, caring but still capable of passionate fire, and, above all, forlorn. He had seen the pain in her eyes, witnessed her willingness to face certain death to buy him a few more moments of life.

If he was honest with himself, perhaps he could say that he loved her. She had done so much for him; sacrificed her powers, her freedom, and now, it seemed, her own life to allow him to save his family. She had changed his world for the better, and he would be damned if he allowed her to die for it.

Perhaps it wasn't love in the conventional teenage sense. There was no sudden passion to kiss her till she couldn't breathe, not overwhelming lust to feel her soft skin flush against his own, no burning desire to sink into her smooth, creamy flesh and feel her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him further inside her. That is to say, those desires were there, but it wasn't the sum of his feelings for her.

She was his companion, his other half, his better half. He was the dark moon, the vast and endless night sky with its overwhelming enormity and its all-consuming loneliness, and she was the soft snow, a gentle caress in the darkness, but also harsh and cold. They seemed unrelated, but they were so delicately and so intricately intertwined that one could not exist without the other.

If he believed in such, maybe he would have thought that she was made just for him (or he for her, considering she was so much older).

But Ichigo knew better. Their meeting, and his consequent falling in love with her, was a one in a million chance, a mere coincidence of the highest order. That coincidence, however, was all he had needed to become attached to this woman, this shinigami, named Kuchiki Rukia. It was all he needed for his life to have meaning again, for him to have a reason amongst all the monotony. It was all he had needed gain the power to defend what he considered precious.

He had heard of other couples, of how they couldn't imagine life without their boyfriend or girlfriend, and had silently snorted when, a few months later, the relationship no longer existed. Kuchiki Rukia was not his whole world, but she was a very significant part of it. And she had been torn away from him against her will.

That, he could not forgive.

Rukia was important to him, but if she decided she did not want what he felt, decided that she did not care for him as deeply as he did her, then that was fine. It was her choice; he wasn't going to force anything on her. But that was the point. It was her choice. If that choice was taken away from her or influenced by outside forces (read: Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji), then he would eliminate everything that prevented her from making that choice free of others' meddling.

He would even wage a war against Heaven; tear down the gods themselves, all so that she could make that choice. If an obstacle was too great, he would overcome it. If an army stood in his way, he would fight to his last against all of them. If the devil himself tried to stop him, he would slay the immortal demon over and over again until time itself stopped.

The only choice she could make that he would not allow was for death. He wouldn't allow her to choose to die, to take the punishment for actions that should be celebrated and praised, or to choose death to save him. Above all, that was unacceptable.

Perhaps he did love Rukia, maybe even more than he cared to admit. Perhaps, just perhaps, she loved him, too. Either way, he would save her. He would rescue her. And maybe, they could find in each other a kindred spirit that no one else possessed.

"Heaven's not enough," he whispered, "if, when I get there, I'm losing you."

"Daaaah!" Ichigo's eyes focused again, locking onto Ganjuu, who had just noticed the drool on his leg. "And what's worse is now my only pair of pants is all slimy with your drool! I've got half a mind to tear your slobbery head off —!"

Ichigo pushed off the wall and walked up behind him, "Give him a break, Ganjuu. He's exhausted. A little bit of drool is no big deal. After all, he is the one who healed you. Didn't you notice?"

Ganjuu looked himself over, "Well, now that you mention it…"

"He was up early this morning, treating your wounds while you were still asleep," Ichigo explained, "even though he had to be dead tired."

"Well, whaddaya know?" Ganjuu grinned at the slumbering shinigami, then turned grim as he looked back at Ichigo. "This mission's only going to keep getting harder, you know. You can bet they're plenty angry they haven't caught us yet."

There was a pause as Ichigo turned toward the water, but Ganjuu wasn't deterred, "Is this something that you're serious about? I hope you're committed to it, heart and soul."

Ichigo could remember, in that instant, the look in Rukia's eyes as she gazed down at him, crystalline tears begging to make tracks down her cheeks. He could remember her begging him not to follow, to spend the remainder of his days in peace and normalcy. And he could remember the ache in his chest as she walked towards certain doom.

At last, he spoke, "She's waiting" — he frowned — "and I didn't come here to tour the sewer system."

Ganjuu smirked.

"Gaah!" Hanatarou shot up suddenly, waving his hands. "Stop it! Please, get away from me! I don't know what you're doing, but you have no right to come on to me like that! Besides, I'm not that kind of guy, so stop IT!"

He finally seemed to remember where he was and turned around, bowing to them slightly, "Good morning."

"Hanatarou," Ganjuu began, "what the hell were you just dreaming about?"

"You…wouldn't want to know," Hanatarou said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. Then, without warning, he gave off a big, tired yawn, and seemed to realize that sleep hadn't done much for him. Reaching into his shihakushô, he pulled out a small round pill, yellow in color with a very strange design on it. Ganjuu and Ichigo leaned in to get a good look at it.

"What the hell is that thing?" Ganjuu wondered aloud.

"It's a super nutrition tablet," Hanatarou explained, "for reviving and reenergizing members of the Fourth Division when they're exhausted but still have a lot of work to do. Every member of the Division is required to keep a supply of these in case of emergency fatigue."

"That has a picture of a skull on it," Ganjuu pointed out skeptically. "Are you sure someone didn't give you poison instead?"

"You just swallow the pill whole, and then," Hanatarou swallowed it, paused for a moment, then stood up. "There, I'm energized. I guess we'd better get going."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Ganjuu demanded. Ichigo's eyebrow twitched. "You don't look any different!"

"No, no, just look at my face," Hanatarou insisted. "See how full of life and vitality it is?"

"Whatever," Ichigo said irritably, shutting Ganjuu up. "Let's just get going."

They were silent for the journey back up to the surface, lifting the large tile only slightly at first, then hefting it out of the way once the coast was clear. Ganjuu grunted slightly as he pulled himself up onto the tiled floor, "Good, there's nobody around."

Ichigo looked right and left, unnerved by the lack of an enemy presence, "We fought Renji here yesterday. Shouldn't there be a couple guards posted, or something like that?"

"They probably figure that this is the last place we'd come back to," Ganjuu reasoned. He looked around too. "We haven't heard from the others in a while. I wonder if they're all right. That strange guy in the glasses and white cape and that cute girl with the really big eyes. And what about that really tall guy you called Chad?"

"They can take care of themselves," Ichigo insisted, walking forward determinedly. "If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that."

"Guess you're right," Ganjuu said. He took a breath, then let it out in a deep sigh as he looked on at the Senzaikyu. "At last. I thought we'd never get here."

As they started to climb the steps, their pace was slow and meaningful. But, as the distance they traveled increased, so did the sense of excitement, and soon, they were jogging, then running up the stairs. Ichigo led them, easily outstripping the other two as they went with Ganjuu, then Hanatarou, trailing behind just a bit.

As they ascended farther and farther, however, Ganjuu began to lag behind just a little bit more and Hanatarou seemed to catch up with Ichigo more and more, thought the orange-haired teen was still the fastest of the three. Ganjuu swore, "Damn it, just how many steps does this stupid stairway have, anyway?"

"The number of steps doesn't make any difference!" Ichigo called back. "Our destination is the same, and the distance we have to travel is the same, so the number of steps is insignificant!"

Then, after what seemed like ages, they reached flat ground, and Ganjuu promptly bent over to catch his breath, "Finally, we made it to the top."

Hanatarou nodded, a hand pressed against his chest, but Ichigo stood strong, breathing a bit faster but still looking alert and determined, "Guess there's no one guarding up here, either. Idiots, the whole lot of them. Alright, let's go!"

Without warning, he shot off again, running at a pace that wouldn't exhaust him but still moving pretty fast. Hanatarou and Ganjuu made to follow him, but they hadn't taken more than a few steps when an immense spiritual pressure pushed down on them, forcing them to their knees as Ichigo stopped in his tracks.

It was immense, to be sure, and, a mere week and a half before, Ichigo would have been trembling himself. He had faced Naruto, though, and Naruto's reiatsu, even at half strength, put this guy to shame.

Naruto looked down at him, his sword, Sô'unga, drawn, "This is what you wanted, Ichigo. This is Sô'unga's Shikai. You said you could handle it, didn't you? So stand up!"

Ichigo tried to level a glare, but each time he raised his head a few centimeters, it would simply jerk back down under the pressure of Naruto's insane reiatsu. The only reason he was on his knees and not flat on the ground, even, was because of the giant cleaver whose blade was dug into the earth and whose handle he was grasping firmly.

"This is pathetic," Naruto spat. "You intend to take on Seireitei with this? Don't even bother. Perhaps I should save them the trouble and kill you myself!"

"Don't…look down on me," Ichigo ground out. "Don't you…dare!"

"Then stand," Naruto said calmly. "Stand up and face me, Ichigo. Stand up and defend yourself. Or are you so pitiful that you can't even do that?"

Grunting, Ichigo forced himself into a more controlled kneel, his legs shaking as he tried to push himself up. No matter how far he got, though, there was a point that he could not seem to surpass, and he just knew that it was a significant part in his training. If he wanted to move on, if he wanted to learn some of the more dazzling and powerful techniques that Naruto would teach him, he had to pass this part first.

There was a hand on his shoulder, a familiar comforting one, and suddenly, his body felt much lighter, "Ichigo. Know that, so long as you need help, you may always come to me. My power is your power, so grasp it, and stand!"

And he stood. The pressure pushing down on him was still immense, and his knees shook as he fought for his place, but he was standing. Naruto smirked.

"Good," he said, and the pressure spiked for a moment, sending Ichigo to his knees again, then returned to its previous level. "Now, do it without Zangetsu's help."

This reiatsu was definitely powerful, but Naruto's surpassed it. Ichigo's eyes flitted around, searching for the owner. Because, even though this power couldn't compare to the blonde shinigami, it was definitely greater than Ichigo's.

"What the hell is this?" Ganjuu gasped. "Some kind of impossibly powerful spiritual pressure?"

"Damn it," Ichigo cursed lowly, turning slightly. "Get yourselves up, and let's go! I don't know who this guy is, but none of us is strong enough to defeat him!"

Groaning with the effort, Hanatarou and Ganjuu started running again, much slower than before. Inwardly, Ichigo cursed again, slowing his pace to match theirs. Neither of them was prepared to face a captain-level shinigami. He, who had been trained specifically for such, might last a couple minutes and could definitely stand the pressure. But they were struggling.

Then, as Ichigo thought might happen, Hanatarou collapsed. Ganjuu paused, grimacing as he tried to keep himself from falling as well, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I…can't keep going," Hanatarou said weakly, gasping for air.

"Damn," Ganjuu swore, bending down and hefting the smaller man onto his shoulders. "You're starting to be a pain in the ass, Hanatarou."

Ichigo stopped a moment, "You two alright?"

"Never mind us!" Ganjuu said, starting back up again. "Just keep moving, Ichigo!"

And, once more, they were running for their lives. But, no matter how far they ran, the pressure didn't vanish and they didn't seem to be getting any closer to the Senzaikyu. Then, out of the blue, it seemed, a chill traveled the length of the orange-haired shinigami's spine.

"Are you Kurosaki Ichigo?" a gravelly voice asked.

Ichigo spun around, turning to see the visage of a beastly man wearing a captain's garb and an eye-patch, his hair done up in spikes with tiny little bells hanging from them. And…the spiritual pressure they had been feeling…it emanated from him.

"You must be," Ichigo scowled, "Zaraki Kenpachi."

"That's right. On your first guess, too," Kenpachi grinned savagely. "I'm here to fight you to the death."

Ichigo said nothing, staring at the grizzly monster that stood in front of him as he contemplated his options. There was no running. It was like he said to Ikkaku. Running was pointless when the reiatsu seeking you out was your better; you'd just wound up caught. But could he really fight this man? Naruto had said that winning against Kenpachi would assure his ascension to Captain class, if not in so many words. But could he actually win?

No, he thought. This thing that stood in front of him, masquerading as a man, was far more powerful than anything he had encountered, save Naruto. The best he could hope for was to stall him long enough for Ganjuu and Hanatarou to go rescue Rukia. After all, that was his purpose here, and he wouldn't forget that.

Yes…it was his only option…

"What's wrong? Are you deaf or something?" Kenpachi mocked. "I just challenged you to a fight to the death. I assume, since you won't answer me, it's alright if I start."

Ichigo reached up, unleashing his sword. He turned slightly, eyes focused on the man in front of him, but his words directed at his companions, "Ganjuu, you — "

"Whoa," a childish voice said, forcing Ichigo's attention back to the front as a little girl with pink hair appeared on Kenpachi's shoulder. "Just look at all that drool!"

Before Ichigo even knew what was happening, she had leapt onto his own shoulder, her foot pressed against his shihakushô, "You must've scared that little guy pretty bad, Ken-chan!"

Suppressing a grunt, he flung her back towards Kenpachi. She pressed a finger to her lips as she landed, "Uh oh. I think I made him mad."

"Well, what did you expect? That was just stupid," Kenpachi grumbled.

"And stupid is as stupid does, right?" she shot back indignantly.

"You said it, not me," the giant replied nonchalantly.

A Lieutenant? Ichigo wondered, spying the badge on her arm. Naruto had made sure he knew at least the basics of what different uniform additions meant amongst the shinigami of the Seireitei. A haori meant captain, an armband meant lieutenant.

"Damn," he whispered, then raised his voice. "Hey, Ganjuu! Get Hanatarou up and go rescue Rukia. I'll…deal with these two."

Ganjuu was about to protest, but could not help noticing just how white Ichigo's knuckles had become as his free hand clenched into a fist. Scoffing angrily, he hefted Hanatarou over his shoulder and ran as fast as he could towards the Senzaikyu.

Ichigo made sure to stand in front of their escape, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you follow them."

"You really don't understand, do you?" Kenpachi frowned. "Don't make me repeat myself. I've been waiting for you to get your ass here for some time now, just so that I could get a decent fight. I couldn't care less what those friends of yours are doing, nor have I any interest at all in you rescuing that Rukia girl."

"Is that so?" Ichigo asked, contemplating something for a moment before he settle for gripping his sword with both hands as he unleashed his own reiatsu. Kenpachi grinned.

"Not bad," he praised. "Even though your stance is too rigid and you have a bunch of gaps in your defense, your reiatsu is something else entirely. Way too much for some of the Lieutenants! I can understand why Ikkaku lost."

Ichigo scowled. It looked like he'd have to…

Kenpachi's grin widened as Ichigo's stance changed, his zanpakuto brandished in front of him as he stood sideways, left elbow nearly on level with his shoulder and his left hand pressed lightly against the center of his chest. He had zero practice with it, but he had seen Naruto use it enough to at least try.

"That's much better! But even so, you're nowhere near my level," Kenpachi looked to be thinking for a moment. "Tell you what, Kurosaki Ichigo, I'll give you an advantage."

Ichigo felt his mouth fall open just a bit as Kenpachi pulled his kosode open, revealing a chiseled chest, "I'll let you have the first strike! I'll stand here and you can cut me anywhere you want."

"Quit playing around with me!" Ichigo demanded angrily. "You think this is some kind of joke? Like I'm cowardly enough to attack someone who hasn't even drawn his sword? Don't you dare mock me!"

"Mock you? Not at all," Kenpachi insisted. "I'm giving you a free shot. Not wanting to attack someone who hasn't drawn his weapon is certainly admirable, but I think you might want to save the chivalry for another time. This is a fight to the death. You could go for my throat, or my gut, or take out my eye, if you want. Or, if you're lucky, you might kill me in one go. Just attack already!"

Scoffing, Ichigo rushed forward sword trailing by his chest as he prepared his attack. Something in his charge must have changed the man's opinion, because when he struck, Kenpachi drew his sword and blocked it, the blade quivering against Zangetsu's size and might. A grin lit up his face, "Now, this is more like it! Your spiritual pressure, it's sharper than it was before! That might have actually killed me!"

He pushed he opponent's blade away, but Ichigo spun Zangetsu around using the momentum and swung it in an uppercut slash. Kenpachi blocked that one as well, his grin stretching farther and farther for every little twitch their weapons made. Ichigo's eyes narrowed, brown irises sharp with determination.

He used his position to knock the jagged zanpakuto out of his way, surprising the man as he moved inside his guard and landed a solid blow against his chest. A thin red line, deep enough to hurt but not a very serious wound, carved itself into tan flesh, marring the chiseled muscles outlined beneath.

The look on Zaraki's face didn't wane, merely grew larger as he hefted his weapon up high and swung down at his enemy. With a scowl, Ichigo vanished, a soft whisper of sound the only evidence of his passing. He reappeared, taking aim at the back of the ripped and torn captain's haori with the characters for "11" splashed across it.

Laughing an insane laugh, Kenpachi spun around, slashing downwards as he did. Ichigo held his sword horizontally, blocking it. His elbows creaked in protest, and he suddenly realized that Kenpachi didn't just look strong, he was a powerhouse. Scoffing, Ichigo moved smoothly to the side, his blade slanting downwards as he stepped inside Kenpachi's guard and landed a diagonal strike across the tall man's chest. A gush of red followed, but the man's grin did nothing but widen.

Ichigo snarled, bringing his zanpakuto around again, "Why won't you just—?"

He stopped, frozen and with his eyes wide, as he noticed it. Chad's reiatsu, which he had been able to feel since they had first entered the Soul Society, vanished without a trace. As far he knew, there was only one way for a person's reiatsu to vanish. As far as he knew, the only time a person's reiatsu vanished…was when they died.

"Impossible," he whispered, "Chad lost?"

Wait, he told himself, sharpening his awareness slightly. It was still there, still flickering, but it was weak and defeated. He let out a soft sigh of relief; Chad was still alive, just beaten. That meant that he could be rescued, and that Ichigo's friends were still surviving in this backwards place.

Stalling wasn't an option anymore, he realized. He couldn't keep hacking at Kenpachi with the intent to slow him down. Not only was that not working, but he also had no more time to be stalling for. If he didn't defeat Kenpachi, rescue Rukia, and find all his friends again, then none of them would make it back. Yoruichi had said as much.

He squared his shoulders. Kenpachi grinned, "So, are you done daydreaming?"

He rushed forward, swinging down, while Ichigo swung left. Their blades met somewhere in the middle, the force of the collision kicking up a slight gust of wind. Kenpachi just continued grinning, ignorant of the two wounds that were sluggishly bleeding all over his clothes and staining his haori red.

"Damn it!" Ichigo snarled, frustrated that Kenpachi was grinning like a loon with those injuries. "Why aren't you taking me seriously? Release your zanpakuto!"

Kenpachi's grin fell and he looked at Ichigo strangely, the latter backing away just a bit as the former's grip slackened, "My zanpakuto ain't got a name. This is its true form, and it doesn't have a sealed one. Never did to begin with."

Ichigo felt a swell of confidence rise in his bones, "That so? That's kind of a relief. That means your zanpakuto can't get any stronger than it already is. In that case—"

Kenpachi interrupted him with a lazy stab, which Ichigo blocked with the flat of his own sword, "In that case, what? You can win? Is that what you thought? Now you're taking me lightly. The reason my zanpakuto don't have a sealed form…is because my reiatsu is so huge that I couldn't seal it, even if I held it in as much as I could. So, when I fight, I make a habit of holding back when I kill."

He was twisting the blade and there was a scraping sound now, as Kenpachi continued, "Do you understand? If I didn't hold back the way I do, I wouldn't have any time to enjoy the fight!"

Punctuating this was a soft crack, followed by a stabbing pain as Ichigo realized that Kenpachi's sword had pushed through his and cut deep into his chest, "You should have known better. Just because you see a chance or two for victory doesn't mean that the fight is already over."

He pulled his sword away, watching as Ichigo's cracked and fell in half, "What a shitty ending."

He turned and began to walk away, ignoring the thud of he opponent's body hitting the ground. Ichigo, gasping desperately for breath, could only curse mentally and claw at the tile as the tall man left. He should have known better. Naruto had taught him that. He had allowed himself to get arrogant when he realized he had an advantage.

But he couldn't die here, not so close to his goal, not with all of his friends counting on him to succeed. And…and he couldn't die, not when Rukia was still on death row, not when she was still in that tower, not when she still didn't know. He couldn't let her die, could not let her be executed for saving him.

So why…?

"Ichigo," a deep voice said solemnly, and, suddenly, Ichigo lay face down on a sideways skyscraper. The familiar spirit of his zanpakuto stood in front of him, staring through tinted glasses. "Do you know why you lost, Ichigo? The mistakes you made?"

"I…was overconfident," Ichigo said shamefully. "I dropped my guard because he told me his zanpakuto didn't have a name."

"And you should not have," Zangetsu said. "Both his zanpakuto and I are unsealed, so what advantage could it possibly have given you?"

Ichigo shook his head, "I should have gone for the killing blow to begin with. I wanted to stall him at first because I wasn't sure I could beat him, or injure him enough to knock him out of the fight, but…"

"You underestimated Kenpachi's love of battle," was the response. "The way he sees it, injury is just a part of having fun. But those were not your only mistakes. Your initial mistake was the most damning, and it was also one of the most subtle."

He walked forward, reaching down and helping Ichigo up, "The first mistake you made, Ichigo, was to try fighting using a style built on speed…when your strength is the raw power you wield."

Ichigo's eyes went wide as Zangetsu continued to explain, "The ittôryu style Naruto uses, and the nitôryu style it is derived from, is a brother form to the Niten'ichi style created by Miyamoto Musashi. It is designed to take advantage of Naruto's strongest asset: his overwhelming speed. You, whose asset is raw power, cannot hope to use it at your current level. Now, Ichigo…"

He flung back his coat to reveal a large cleaver that Ichigo found familiar, "Take hold of me, and I shall prove to you my point."

Zangetsu grabbed the cleaver and threw it off the building. At the same time, Ichigo grasped the identical cleaver standing next to him, the one that he'd seen only out of the corner of his eye. In midair, the other cleaver was snatched up by a white blur, one that settled on the next building over and began to form a coherent shape.

"Howdy, partner," the other form drawled with a malicious grin, its voice higher but still very similar to his own. He was Ichigo's doppelganger, but his colors were almost inverted. His skin was chalk white, as was his hair, and his eyes were a gleaming amber yellow, with black sclera. His shihakushô was white over black, instead of black over white, and the cleaver he held rested on his shoulder. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Ichigo's eyes went wide, "What the—?"

Before he could formulate more of a response than that, the other struck, leaping forward. Ichigo barely raised his own weapon in time, feet dragging slightly on the building below him from the force of the blow. Then, just as quickly, the other retreated, a menacing and maniacal grin plastered to his lips. Unnerved, Ichigo settled into the stance he had observed from Naruto.

"That's not going to work," Zangetsu warned. "I've already told you; relying on Naruto's combat style will produce nothing good for you. You must find your own, one that fits that blade you hold."

"What's the matter, partner?" the other cooed, swinging the cleaver around by its wrappings. "If you're just going to stand there…you'll die."

It threw the sword at him mid-swing, the white cloth lengthening to accommodate the sudden change. Ichigo knocked it aside, watching as it was retrieved with seeming ease simply by tugging on the hilt wrappings. Immediately, it was being swung again, blurring into a shapeless black mass.

"I don't understand," the other called. "You had this awesome sword at your disposal and still you got beat up. How pathetic."

Think, Ichigo told himself. Think.

Naruto wielded a normal sized zanpakuto, a little larger than the average katana but not by much. Because it wasn't big or thick or wide, it was best used for a speed-based combat style, which meant a one-handed wield style. Logically, then, a cleaver like Zangetsu, big, thick, and wide, should be wielded with two hands, right? Or at least, if one-handed, then prepared to be grasped with two.

At the same time, though, he wanted to project the smallest target possible, so he still had to stand sideways. His right foot should lead, positioned nearly directly below the hilt of his sword, but he didn't want his knees lock, so they should be slightly bent. Shifting around, he found a comfortable stance, not all that different from Naruto's style. However, he moved his left arm, tucking his elbow in and moving his left hand closer to his sword's hilt, ready to grab it at a moment's notice.

"Very good, Ichigo," Zangetsu praised. And, suddenly, Ichigo realized that his other no longer had a sword. "It still relies on Naruto's style a bit more than I'd like, but the stability it provides fits you a lot better."

The scraggily dressed man pushed a finger against the teen's head, and, before he knew what was going on, he was falling down, down, down, into the darkness. None of his cries reached the surface, nothing he said was heard, and then, everything went black.

Kenpachi paused in his gait, a powerful reiatsu erupting from behind him. His visible eye widened as he watched Ichigo stand, his sword whole once more, "What the hell? He was dead! And yet he's standing up?"

And, he noticed, the bleeding in Ichigo's chest had stopped.

Before he knew what was happening, Ichigo had leapt forward and carved a gash from his shoulder nearly down to his hip. He barely managed to block the second slash and was pushed back with each consecutive blow. He couldn't even get an attack of his own off, let alone stop the rain of attacks that came one after the other, and another injury had been added to the list on the opposite shoulder. He even had to stab his blade into the buildings to slow the momentum that sent him careening backwards.

"Sorry, but I've wasted enough time as it is," Ichigo said calmly. "I'm going to have to be quick about this."

Kenpachi chuckled. "You wanna finish it quickly, huh? There's no way I can allow that. Not when we're starting to have so much FUN!"

The final word was punctuated by a blast of reiatsu and a maddening grin. Then, Kenpachi was moving forward again, slicing a cut into Ichigo's cheek as the latter dodged the jagged blade, "I love it!"

Another slash, but it was blocked easily, "How could you come back from the dead?"

There was another attack, but Ichigo moved around it and carved one more line into the giant's body, right along the hip. Kenpachi didn't waiver, "How come you're so much stronger, now?"

He grinned, "So many questions! But those don't matter, not at the moment, anyway. Let's just have fun!"

Ichigo quickly lost track of the number of attacks they'd traded, even more so of the number of failed ones, ones that were either blocked or dodged. But no matter how many times he wounded the bear of a man, he didn't go down, didn't even acknowledge they were there, "Damn it, what's wrong with you! Aren't you afraid of dying?"

"Afraid of dying?" Kenpachi repeated, grinning wider. "I can't believe you'd ask such a stupid question! How could someone as strong as you not love battle? You should revel in it, in death and in injury! It's the price of being a warrior, isn't it?"

He leapt forward again, lashing out wildly with his sword, but was blocked once more. Ichigo moved inside his guard, slicing into his right arm and severing the sleeve just below the shoulder. Kenpachi roared out with laughter, even as his checkerboard of wounds dribbled with red blood.

"At last, I've met my equal!" Kenpachi panted. "In fact, you might even be better than me! I can't remember feeling so good ever before! Against you" — he reached up, tugging off his eye-patch— "I think I can fight without any restraints at all!"

A twister of vicious yellow reiryoku erupted around his body, sending a shockwave through the buildings around them. As his eyes glowed, Kenpachi held up the black irregular shape, "I had the R and D Department cook up this little monster for me. It consumes huge amounts of reiryoku from the one wearing it. Now that I've taken it off, I'm releasing my full power!"

With a lazy slash, he cut straight through the building next to him, toppling it with ease, "And I'm going to use every bit of it to kill you. Get it?"

Ichigo frowned and closed his eyes, feeling the comforting hand on his shoulder. Zangetsu spoke softly, "Can you hear it, Ichigo? Can you hear his sword's pitiful cries?" He paused. "You hear it, but he cannot. And when two who do not trust each other fight together, the strength they each possess is weakened more than they realize. One who believes only in himself cannot understand this. Ichigo…do you have complete and utter trust in me?"

"It goes without saying," Ichigo said calmly. "I'm putting my very life in your hands, Zangetsu. Lend me your power…lend me the strength to destroy the obstacles in my path."

"Yes," Zangetsu hissed solemnly.

And he did. Welling up from the depths of his soul, Ichigo could feel it, the unimaginable power that now coursed through his very bones. His own aura, azure as the sky above him, lit up around his body and set his form aglow. He felt lighter, stronger, more agile than ever before, and he knew that this was what he needed.

"Even now," Kenpachi grinned, "your reiatsu continues to grow!"

"Of course," Ichigo stated matter-of-factly. "So long as Zangetsu and I are in harmony, my power shall know no limits. I can never lose to the likes of you, to someone who fights all on his own."

"Zangetsu?" Kenpachi queried. "Is that the name of your zanpakuto? And so, you're borrowing power from your sword and fighting with it in harmony? Heh, what nonsense. Zanpakuto are weapons, nothing more. Your approach is weak. That you lack that much confidence in your own abilities…heh!"

With a roar, they threw themselves at one another, souls alight with power. When they clashed, a bright flash lit up the sky and several of the buildings were ground into dust. The tiles beneath their feet cracked, and the air itself was rich and crisp with their combined might. Across the Soul Society, the final blow could be felt, and one blonde man, dressed in a white coat decorated with flames, smiled as he vanished into the wind.

Blood splattered against the ground, but no victor was immediately apparent. Zangetsu had burrowed a deep cut into Zaraki's shoulder, stopping, it seemed, at the bone. Kenpachi's own zanpakuto was embedded between two of Ichigo's ribs, but had not sunk in all the way, its blade jutting out behind the teen's arm.

With a gasp of, "Rukia!" Ichigo fell to the ground, unconscious.

Kenpachi let out something between a growl and a sigh, gazing skyward as blood spewed from his wound. He raised his sword and rested it against his shoulder, "What are you getting all depressed for?" His blade cracked, then split halfway along its length. "You dumbass. You won."

With a gasp of his own, he fell forward, also out like a light.

There was a slight gust of wind as Yachiru appeared next to them, looking down at both the combatants. Then, without warning, she bowed to Ichigo, "Arigatou gozaimasu. Ken-chan had so much fun fighting you, Ichi!"

She stood straight, grinning broadly, "It's really been a long time since I've seen him enjoy himself so much! I really appreciate it!"

Ichigo didn't respond, even as she turned and hefted Kenpachi onto her shoulder with a, "Here we go!"

Then, before she jumped off, she smiled and said, "Try to stay alive, okay?"

As soon as she had disappeared, a cat landed gracefully down in the crater, eyes narrowed at the boy, "You've been cut up pretty bad, Ichigo. But, against someone like Zaraki Kenpachi, you could not have expected any less. Taking him out was quite an achievement. You've fought well…and you've endure a great deal."

"Yes, he has," a voice said.

Yoruichi whirled around, catching sight of a tall blonde with sparkling blue eyes, "Naruto. What are you doing here?"

"Fulfilling a promise I made to Ichigo," Naruto said calmly. He grinned. "You wouldn't make me into a liar, now would you, Yoruichi? Besides, what are you planning on doing with him? He already knows Shunpô."

"I was going to teach him Bankai," Yoruichi explained, yellow eyes boring into his.

"Well, what do you know? That's quite the coincidence," Naruto grinned foxily. "I'm planning on teaching Momo Bankai! What do you say we double team this one? You got two of those Bankai dolls?"

Yoruichi's eyes narrowed.

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

"Ugh! Finally, all that reiatsu has died down," Shinigami #1 sighed, standing up again. He looked around. "Whoever it was, I wouldn't want to have to face them!"

"Baha ha hah! What the hell is wrong with you!" Shinigami #2 chortled. He was trembling all over. "I can't believe all of your whining! How pathetic!"

"Me!" the first shinigami demanded indignantly. "Look at you! You're so scared, your whole body is still shaking!"

"Am not! It's just cold up here!" he retorted. A drop of strange green liquid hit his forehead. He reached up to touch it. "What the hell? Did a bird get up here or something?"

With a dizzy gasp, he pitched sideways, asleep. The first one panicked, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a figure creeping around along the roof, "Oh, so it was you! You're gonna pay for that!"

There was a rustling as someone landed behind him, but before he could turn fully, an elbow slammed into his chin and knocked him out. Hanatarou slid down a rope from the roof, "That was kind of over the top, Ganjuu!"

"I'm over the top?" Ganjuu demanded. "What's with you and your funny green goop, huh?"

"You mean this stuff?" Hanatarou held out a bottle with green liquid in it. "It's a powerful tranquilizer that will knock out those with low reiatsu. All you need is one drop!"

"You kind of scare me sometimes," Ganjuu said, eyeing him strangely, "you know that, kid?"

"Aw, come on," Hanatarou brushed it off. He turned towards the tall white tower. "Anyway, we better hurry!"

Hanatarou rushed over the bridge and kneeled in front of the tower door. Ganjuu hummed thoughtfully as he came up behind the small shinigami, arms crossed, "So, it's a vault style door, eh? Now, the question is, 'how do we get it open?'."

"I can handle that," Hanatarou reassured him, pulling a weirdly shaped block from his shihakushô. "I borrowed this from a spare room in the underground tunnel, last night."

He fidgeted with it, trying to fit it into the lock on the door.

"Whoa," Ganjuu took a step forward. "What happens if they find out you did that? Wouldn't that be bad?"

"I think I'd be in big trouble," Hanatarou said calmly. "But…I thought about it last night. Ichigo gets beat up, but just keeps on fighting. All I do is run away. I decided that it isn't really all that honorable of me. I want to save Rukia-san too, you know. But I haven't been doing much to help. So, I've decided that, from now on, I'm going to give it my all. Even if it means breaking the rules, and the consequences involved in that."

He tossed Ganjuu a sheepish smile, "Of course, stealing a key hardly compares to the stuff you guys have been doing. But I'm afraid it's about all I'm good for."

"Don't sell yourself short, my friend," Ganjuu said solemnly as the door opened. "You've done enough."

He squatted, trying to peer inside, "I have to say, I've never seen such an effort just to save one person. With all the people involved and everything we've gone through, this Rukia girl must be quite a looker, huh?"

"That's," Hanatarou tried to explain, "not really what this is about."

"C'mon!" Ganjuu grinned, looking around the dark cell. "You can tell me! Heh! Never mind, I'll see for myself! Hey, Rukia, come on out here!"

The moment he saw her, though, his eyes went wide and his face fell. He felt his heart stop. This girl they were looking for, Kuchiki Rukia, was…?

She looked at them, surprised, "Are you…Ichigo's friends? How do you know me?"

"It's me!" Hanatarou said brightly, popping up from behind Ganjuu. "Hanatarou! Rukia-san, you remember me, don't you?"

"Hanatarou!" she said, blinking in shock. "O-of course! But…what are you doing here?"

"I can explain later!" he said, grasping her hands. "But we've got to move, now! Come on, Ganjuu, let's—!"

He stopped short as he caught the look on Ganjuu's face. Hanatarou tried to ease the tension he could feel building, "Ganjuu, you look like you've just seen a ghost."

Rukia gasped lightly, "I know that symbol. The trembling current of the fallen skies. You…you're from the Shiba clan."

Hanatarou looked between them, "Do…you two know each other?"

Ganjuu let out a twisted sigh, "Yes, I know her. As if I could ever forget…the face of the shinigami who killed my brother."

Hanatarou couldn't believe it, "You must be mistaken, Ganjuu. Rukia-san would never do that."

"His throat was slit," Ganjuu said. "There was a stab in his chest. All of his injuries were inflicted by a sword. If he was really fighting with a Hollow…how could he have died of sword wounds? Not only that, she confessed! She admitted that she was the one…who killed him."

"He's telling the truth, Hanatarou," Rukia said solemnly. "He wore the same symbol. It must have been your brother. I did…I killed Shiba Kaien."

Ganjuu grabbed her by the front of her robes, growling. She stared at him with dead eyes, "Do what you want. After killing Kaien…after putting Ichigo through everything that's happened to him…I deserve whatever fate you decide for me."

"Agreed!" Ganjuu ground out.

Hanatarou grabbed his arm, "Wait a minute, Ganjuu, please! You said it yourself! Ichigo asked us to do this for him! We can't let him down!"

"I—Don't—Care!" Ganjuu spat.

Wherever else the conversation might have gone, it would remain unknown. For, at that moment, a crippling reiatsu assaulted them. And, walking slowly across the bridge, calm as the azure sky but as unmovable as the mountains, was Kuchiki Byakuya.

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

To be continued

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Bleach

This chapter title, also chosen from the Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII Original Soundtrack, fits well with the tone of this chapter. This is the prelude to the climax of the Soul Society arc, where Aizen's betrayal fits in.

Some of you (read: most) were probably a bit confused, so let me explain: "ittôryu" and "nitôryu" mean "one blade style" and "two blade style" respectively.

Also, I was considering adding in Memories of Nobody, just because I liked Senna. Tell me what you think of that.

The whole Kenpachi fight was very difficult for me, and I'm still not entirely satisfied with how it turned out. It was just…gah! You know?

Amendment: The Hachikiri of the previous story has been renamed "Hattou Issen".

Felicius sum ille in amor… (Blessed are those in love)

James Daniel Godric Alan Fawkes

James Daniel Godric Alan Fawkes(Signature best viewed in Wendy Medium font style)